


I regret that I learned how you taste

by alba17



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Memories, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thought grabbed hold of Steve while he was at the grocery store examining broccoli, striking him like a slap to the face as he wondered whether he needed one or two bunches. Memory and ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I regret that I learned how you taste

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt of tigriswolf’s at comment_fic. Title is the prompt.

_I regret that I learned how you taste._

The thought grabbed hold of Steve while he was at the grocery store examining broccoli, striking him like a slap to the face as he wondered whether he needed one or two bunches. Bucky: his mouth and his lips, their tongues twining together, hot and yearning. It was decades ago, he hadn’t thought about it for…well, he wasn’t sure how long, but long enough for entire generations to grow and die, long enough that Bucky was probably nothing but bones under the frozen earth of the Alps, long enough for Steve to be thrown into a strange world of futuristic marvels he was still getting used to.

Bucky’s taste—he did know it. He remembered it suddenly with perfect clarity, the way Bucky’s mouth tasted on his, how their lips fit together, the way they’d learned each other’s bodies so well that they could anticipate the other’s needs, the exact touch that would drive the other one to moan with pleasure.

He put down the broccoli when he realized he’d been staring into space for several minutes. Groceries filled his cart, stuff he needed, but he had to get out of there. It was too much, the narrow, crowded aisles and bright, fluorescent modern light, people who might suddenly recognize him and stare, or worse, come up to him and want a selfie. The store was getting smaller by the minute. He abandoned his groceries.

He didn’t want to be Captain America right now. Captain America didn’t have memories like ghosts. Captain America was a bright smile, red, white and blue, the wide-eyed optimism of an earlier era when everything was black and white and the enemy an evil man with a mustache, when amber waves of grain and big muscles were all they needed to win the day.

Outside in the cold air of February in Brooklyn, he could breathe. He started walking, not paying attention to where he was going, blocks of brownstones and corner bodegas.

Bucky—his heart clenched tightly. He didn’t know why he’d, well, not forgotten exactly, but put Bucky away into a corner of his mind where it hurt less, wrapped him up tight in a box of memory secured with chains and a padlock, something not easily opened. Bucky was everything he’d lost, all his hopes for the future. 

There’d been a time when he couldn’t imagine life without Bucky. The war had forced him to think about the possibility. When Bucky showed up that day in the alley, in his crisp uniform, hat cocked, fists at the ready, it hit Steve like a ton of bricks. Bucky was going to war and he might not come back. It was unthinkable to let him go fight the Nazis without Steve. Steve would have done anything to go with Bucky, and he guessed that in the end, he did. He let Erskine experiment on him like a lab rat. 

After all of that, the pain of Steve being rejected time after time, Bucky leaving for the war without him, they did fight together. And maybe Bucky wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t followed Captain America, if Steve hadn’t been so relentless in pursuing Hydra. He’d never know and he guessed it was pointless to wonder about it now.

] Bucky was gone and Steve had to live on and on without him, alone in the future. He wished he could stuff that box back in the attic of his mind and seal it up forever. It was out now and he couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and everything he meant. 

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged onward. When he made his way home, he looked around and realized he didn’t even have a photo of Bucky. He was desperate to see his face again, remind himself exactly how he looked, how those memories of hungry kisses and febrile touches fit together. Pulling out a box of his old stuff from the war that SHIELD had held on to, he ransacked it, sorting through the yellowed, brittle papers with a kind of anguish. 

Finally he found a black and white photograph, cracked with age, the image blurry and dark, but it was clearly the Howling Commandoes. It made him smile. Bucky was there in the middle of the group, head bare, laughing like he’d just told a joke, his hand on Dum Dum’s shoulder, and Steve was on the other side of the group, less exuberant but grinning, looking at Bucky. 

Looking at Bucky. He had a feeling he did that a lot. At least that was what he remembered.

He took out the photo, sighed, and put the box away. Seeing Bucky’s face wrenched something deep inside, like the base of a stone column disintegrating. His finger traced the image and then he looked away, out the window, not seeing the windows of the building that faced his like an audience. In his tiny kitchen, he grabbed a magnet and stuck the photo on the fridge.

The doorbell blared and Clint’s voice jumped out of the intercom when Steve pressed the button. “Get yer ass down here, Rogers. Romanoff and me got a bet. Is the best pizza in Manhattan or Brooklyn?”

“Brooklyn!” Was there any doubt? 

“That’s what I said!”

He could hear Natasha yelling her disagreement in the background.

“Be down in a sec. I got just the place.” He’d take them to Totonno’s. Bucky’s favorite. There was nothing better than a day out on Coney Island with Bucky, ending with a slice at Totonno’s. A glance at the old photo of Bucky made his heart ache. On the way out, he gave it a little salute.

Ghosts and memories. He didn’t regret what he’d had with Bucky. Never. But he knew this wave of sadness wasn’t going away. The box had been wrenched opened and he wasn’t going to get it shut any time soon. 

But, he thought as he greeted Clint and Natasha, each of whom had their own ghosts, at least he wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I’ve written in awhile. Haven’t given up on the one WIP I’ve posted here. Last part is written, needs to be edited.  
> Say hi on [tumblr](http://annaluna.tumblr.com/).


End file.
